


The shed

by Gaia_bing



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Amnesia, Angel Bucky Barnes, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Romance, War, demon steve rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-08-17 03:37:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16508648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaia_bing/pseuds/Gaia_bing
Summary: A war like any other war,Two gravely injured soldiers,A wooden cache,A night unlike any others.Where two souls that were destined to eradicate,Somehow found each other...(Again.)





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, bear with me with this one. Everything will make sense as the story comes along, I promise. :)

This is a story about Heaven and Hell.

Yes, I know, a really original tale to recall,

 

  
but this one...

 

  
This one's a little bit different than the others.

 

You see, in this particular Heaven, Angels don't have wings,

  
They don't have halos,

 

Heck, they don't even have clouds.

  
The only white and shining part on their bodies and in their world is their completely milky and iris-less eyes, the rest of them and where they live almost indistinguishable from their Earthly counterpart.

 

The same could be said for what is supposed to be the land of fire and brimstone, if actual fire and brimstone existed over there.

 

  
The Demons in this Hell do not have horns,

 

They don't have sharp teeth,

  
They look like you, me and the Angels above, except that their own eyes are dark and hollow, just like the spirits that shelter them are supposed to be.

 

 

Yes, this is a story about Heaven and Hell,

  
About a war like every war there was, is and ever will be,

  
And about Sergeant 32557038 and Captain 54985870.


	2. The entry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blond man bursts through a door...

A loud bang is heard,

  
A splintered door bursts out open,

  
A heaving blond man limply steps inside.

  
The effort he's just made with his uninjured leg makes him curse out loud.

 

He lays his back against the now empty frame and removes his glove-covered hand to check the additional damage of what he'd just done.

  
... _Fuck_.

  
And here he'd thought the bleeding had maybe stopped.

 

Standing straight once more, the man looks around as his mind returns to his purpose.

  
He smiles.

  
He's just found a literal jackpot:

  
Guns and knives of all sorts, bottled water, cans of gasoline for combat vehicles, surgical tools, dried food, even a small bed...

  
And bandages, **_tons_** and _tons_ of bandages.

 

Everything is piled up right here,

  
In this small, green-wooden, weapon-cache made shed.

 

Everything a soldier could ever want in his probable time of need is right here.

  
Which is what the blond is, by the way.

 

A... short?...

  
...long?...

  
_However_ -time soldier in this seemingly endless war.

 

His rank is high, because of how fast he's climbed the military ladder,  
He is called by a series of numbers, because people in this battle don't have names,  
Don't have pasts...  
Don't even have _lives_.

 

Because after all, how can you have a life when you're already **dead**?

 

Yes, all of them, all of those on the blond man's side, including himself, are Demons...

  
And they're trying to take out the Angels...  
Those pesky, hard-to-beat Angels,  
So that their Chief can take what's rightfully his,  
The so-called _"Big Throne"_ ,  
And he can finally rule where he'd once been cast out.

  
The Demons are indeed the invaders here...

  
And they couldn't be anymore proud of it.

 

The blond man shakes his head and looks at his fingers...

  
A syrupy liquid, looking almost as dark as his eyes are, is now covering them.

  
Sure, maybe Demons cannot die, but if they don't survive...

  
If they run out of whatever was put inside their veins when they traded one existence for another,

  
They risk a fate even worse than death:

 

 **Erasure**.

 

Bowing out of existence itself,

  
Your soulish appearance there one moment and forever gone the next. 

  
Nobody misses you,  
Nobody even remembers you.  
No second chance,  
No going back.

  
Nothing is left of whatever you were,  
You can't ever get to your ultimate goal...

  
The goal to anyone that reaches either places:

 

  
Which is **Rebirth**.

 

And so that's why the man is here,

  
Why he risked extensive pain and misery to his already very pained and very miserable wounded leg.

  
And that's why...

  
_Why_...

  
**_Why_**...

  
Why a cold, seemingly metallic giant snake suddenly coils itself around his neck.

 

His killer instinct taking over, the blond man grabs the snake,

  
Which turns out to actually be an arm, that seems to be oozing white liquid...

  
And flips it and whoever its attached to over his head and right onto the floor in front of him.

  
Reaching down quickly to his thigh holster, near his bleeding injury, he takes out his trusty knife...

  
Just as his attacker takes out a gun out of its own...

  
And he yanks who turns out to be a snow-colored eyes man by his long, brown hair and lays his shining blade against the other's neck,

  
While his former attacker puts the barrel of his own trusty and shining pistol against the blond's man temple...

 

Leaving the both of them now at a complete standstill.

 


	3. Sergeant 32557038

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What brought the long-haired Angel to this particular place? 
> 
> Well...

A dangling dog tag around the brown-haired man's neck catches the blond man's attention and leaning over, he carefully reads...

  
"Sergeant 32557038?"

  
************

  
**Twelve hours ago...**

  
_"...325..."_

  
The long-brown haired man was sitting there and was hearing someone calling him, but somehow from far, _far_ away.

  
"...325..."

  
His ears were ringing, his head felt like it was floating...

  
He'd never smelled anything quite like it.

  
"... **325?** "

 

His...

 

His cup of coffee. 

 

Its aroma was so...

 

So _**amazing**_.

 

With a touch of almond and chocolate and vanilla...

 

...He'd never experienced this combination of scents before... 

  
Had...

  
_Had_ h-

  
_**"Sarge!"** _

  
The voice right by his side made him almost jump right out of his skin. Shaking his head to get the imaginary water out and get his brain back on track, he coughed and, leaving his puzzling coffee behind, he stood up next to his interlocutor.

  
"Yeah, uhm, sorry. What is it?" he asked.

  
The mustached man sighed as he rolled his eyes. He shook his head as, for one more time, he went over the plan, waving his hand back and forth all over the marked and stretched-out map.

  
"Now then, as I was so dutifully explaining for noticing some of our spaced-out hierarchy, that reconnaissance gig from last night paid us some very high dividends. It seems that we may have finally found the key to take back the Fourth Circle."

  
Oh, now this right here definitely piqued the Sergeant's interest. He approached the table where everyone else from the regiment had been converging, just as the bowler-hat wearing man continued his explanations:

  
"See right there, the red _X_ over that mountain? That is Outpost 23 and one of the biggest the Demons have set up ever since they've been calling themselves the lords of this place. If we go all-members, full-weapons, all-strike on this one, I think we can push back those bastards at least a notch and maybe, just maybe, begin to get some of our mojo back. What do you think, Sarge?"

  
The man in question couldn't help but grin a bit. The takeover of the Fourth Circle of Heaven a couple of weeks earlier had been absolutely devastating for the Angels, in almost every way...

  
In the loss of conquered ground against their enemy,

  
In the loss of available resources and soldiers to defend their territory,

  
And most crushing of all, in the loss of optimism inside the troops that maybe, just maybe, they could send those parasites right back where they belonged and maybe, just maybe, this stupid war could finally end.

  
Almost half of their home turf had been conquered now and if the invasion continued, soon...

  
There wouldn't _even_ be a place for the Angels to call a home turf.

  
"Well I for one think that getting the chance to put our collective angelic boots right up some demonic asses and get back even the tiniest bit of what we've lost is one that I'm going to take with both hands, even if one of them is metallic!" The men around him chuckled as he clapped both said hands together in glee.

  
Looking at the map, his previous joy evaporated a bit when he noticed exactly where the red _X_ was situated: "Huh, the Azzona region, its a tough one to go through. And if we get in there full on blazin', the Demons that are gathered there are gonna be the ones that will get the chance to get their boots inside our collective asses and not the other way around."

  
The other standing man scratched the back of his neck as he asked his Sergeant: "Well, then, if we don't do our usual routine, what do you suggest we do?"

  
The grin on Sergeant 32557038's face only widened as an idea suddenly struck him...

  
An absolutely genius, brilliant masterpiece of an idea:

  
"How about we borrow a little bit of our enemy's handbook and we're the ones that do some stealth work this time around?"

  
************

**Two hours ago...**

  
_Okay, alright_ , the long-haired man finally admits to himself as he falls to his knees while an agonizing pain falls down his back.

  
Maybe that idea of his hadn't been that brilliant nor that genius after all.

  
The Demons had always been quite notorious for their skills in stealth and subterfuge, close-ranged weapons and a whole lot of patience their most favorite techniques when it came to fighting, while the Angels had always preferred the pomp and circumstance of an already-announced and quickly advancing battle, with a bullet-fueled arsenal as their own weapons of choice.

  
So, to do things none of them had ever really the experience or the reputation to do, without some kind of practice beforehand?

  
Bad idea...

  
Bad, so, _so_ bad idea.

  
And this was how Sergeant 32557038 found himself, standing in a very busy patch of woods with a sniper riffle in hand, getting ready to shoot down some unassuming Demons guarding the much-sought Outpost one minute...

  
And then with a thrown knife right inside his scapula the next.

  
The brown-haired man, still on his knees, quickly turns around, trying to see who in the world discovered him when he should have been invisible to pretty much everyone and everything...

  
Whoever had threw this must have been and now must be even more far away than before.

  
Looking through his visor, he spots a patch of blond hair...

  
And pulls the trigger.

  
Turning his head once more, he sees that the sound of the shot has alarmed the whole building and his forces...

  
His men...

  
His _friends_...

  
Are abandoning all pretenses of borrowing another person's technique and, in the face of their _very_ limited numbers versus the ones inside and all around the Outpost...

  
Have all began to retreat.

  
And...with the way his gloved fingers found themselves covered with white liquid when he put his hand on his now knife-free wound that he finally and painfully pull out...

  
Sergeant 32557038 knows that if he doesn't do the same and _soon_ ,

  
The arm that he'd lost thanks to a previous bout of almost-Erasure would soon be followed by the rest of his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, my version of Heaven and Hell is a little bit borrowed from the ones that are in Dante's books. It was the only one that I thought suited with what I wanted to do. :)


	4. Captain 54985870

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And how did the blond short-haired demon ended up there? 
> 
> Well...

The Sergeant slightly wheezes from his recent effort: "Yeah, so you know my number and my rank, what are you gonna do about it?"

  
Not letting his enemy respond, he grabs the blond Demon's own dangling dog-tag with his free hand and, yanking the other man's head forward by its chain, he adds:

  
"Well, well, well, would you look at that? I didn't now I was standing, or should I say laying, in front of pretty much Demonic royalty! Isn't that right..."

  
He reads out loud:

  
_"Captain 54985870?"_

  
************

  
**Twelve hours ago...**

  
Dark, iris-less eyes goes over the large piece of paper one more time.

  
A smile graces a pair of lips.

  
Yes, this was a great plan...

  
A genius, brilliant one if he could say so himself.

  
Clapping his hands together a couple of times to get the attention of the rest of the Demons.that were assembled inside the main hall of Outpost 23, one of the key building in all of their invading infantry, the blonde haired-man smiled wider as everyone gathered around his table and his map.

  
"Alright, boys! I've checked and checked and rechecked everything... **and**...if my calculations are right, which they're always _are_ by the way."

  
He stays silent for a couple of seconds as all the men around him chuckle at the self-depreciating humor.

  
He continues: "As I was saying, if my calculations are right, we may gonna be able to finally grab our hands on that troublesome Fifth Circle before tomorrow night!"

  
The other men cheer around him, making the blond Demons smirk a little bit out of smugness.

  
A black-haired and goateed man, who for some reason the blond never remembers the number of, crosses his arms as he asks: "Yeah, well, it's all fine and dandy Cap, but what about the guys on the other side? I mean, it might be my mind doing some dirty tricks on me, but I could have sworn I saw a couple of white-eyed people circling around the base not too long ago. I mean, not to be a downer or anything, but they could very well be on their way to retake one of their former big buildings, you know."

The Captain huffs out a laugh as he crosses his own arms: "Oh please! If the Angels had an attack planned, we would have known all about it and in big, bright letters on top of everything.

  
They are the kings and queens of obvious and they pretty much get off on any kind of fanfare.

  
No, what we need to focus right now is the attack on the Hildes region tomorrow night, the continuation of our forward movement towards the Center and the takeover of this blasted place. And, unless the Angels have suddenly decided to take a page out of own handbook and are now stealth and silence specialists, we're 100% safe from any kind of surprise attack and there is absolutely _nothing_ to worry about. Are we clear?"

  
At the nod of the goateed-Demon's head, the Captain smiles once more and looking down at the map and getting back into the task at hand, he cannot help but mutter under his breath:

  
_"A stealth attack by the Angels...yeah, right!"_

  
***********

  
**Two hours ago..**.

  
_"...Cap..."_

  
The blond man is floating, he doesn't know where, or even when....

  
But he knows that he's floating,

  
And that someone is calling for him from far, _far_ away.

  
"...Cap..."

  
His hands are bare, for once, and they're caressing s _omething_.

  
**"...Cap?"**

 

  
Something...soft.

 

  
Something...long.

 

  
Something that he...

 

That _he_...

 

  
_That-_

 

  
**_"549!"_ **

 

  
The sudden shriek right by his ear makes the Captain immediately wake and sit up in bed. "What! What? I'm up, I'm up!" he calls out and, seeing that his interlocutor was the same goateed-man from earlier, he calms his alerted heart as he asks in a huff:  
"Why in the world are you waking me up like that? Is there a fire or something?!"

  
The dark-haired Demon doesn't responds, only goes over to the small window of the Captain's bedroom. When he sees that the blond has followed him, he simply opens up the curtains and points towards somewhere in the surrounding forest of the base, leaving the blond man completely stunned by what he's seeing...

  
A gleam. Something red follows, like a lazer.

  
There's a working sniper rifle somewhere inside these woods. There's no doubt about it.

  
Someone's planning to get sneaky around here and it ain't any of them, since he knows all of his infantry is sleeping like he'd been doing until a couple of minutes ago.

  
Which can mean only one thing...

  
"Stay and assemble the others. I'm going to get out through the back and see if I can take care of our invading friend before he or she does too much damage." he quickly command as he changes out of his night clothes for his combat ones.

  
The goateed man asks before his captain zooms out the door: "And if the Angels are indeed taking a page out of our stuff?"

  
The Captain stops in his tracks for a second and responds, before racing down the nearby hallway: "Then we make sure that what we end up throwing at them is indeed a hard book cover!"

  
**************

  
Ow....ow...

  
_Ow!_ _**Ow!** __**OW!**_

  
_God_ , since when did his leg begin to hurt like that?

  
One minute he is taking care of said invading friend, someone with long brown hair hiding in a rather bushy part of the small woods surrounding the Outpost, by accomplishing what he'd always done best:

  
Throwing a knife at his target and getting the heck out of dodge.

  
And the next thing that he knows, a loud bang is suddenly heard into the quiet night and his formerly two working have now come down to only one as, leaning on the bark of a nearby tree, the Captain confirms what he had dreaded to happen:

  
He'd been shot straight into the left thigh and he was now bleeding (and limping) like a mother.

  
He needs help.

  
He needs to stop the pain and the dark liquid from oozing out of his leg like that.

  
Before he has any liquid inside his body left...

  
Before he comes face-to-face with his greatest fear...

  
With any Demons' greatest fear...

  
Being Erased from existence before seeing their leader reach his rightful place onto the Heavenly throne.

  
A thought suddenly reaches his mind...

  
When they'd invaded this place not too long ago...

  
There was a weapon cache, around here somewhere in the form of a small shed, supposedly filled to the brim by the Angels with goodies if something like this happened to them and they needed a place of rest and reprieve while they regrouped and refilled themselves.

  
_Maybe...just maybe_...the Demon thinks as he begins to painfully limp once more...

  
If it's still standing,

  
And hasn't yet been used...

  
Then maybe it could be hospitable enough to receive the exact opposite of what it expected. 


	5. The proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tense stand-off...
> 
> And a surprising proposal.

The Demon and the Angel stare at one another, their enemy still tightly inside their grip and their sight.

  
They also look at each other's wound: a cascading white one right next to a shoulder and a gushing black one just inside a thigh.

  
_Huh._

  
Why does this look so familiar?

  
...

  
..

.

  
They both suddenly feel the pain of their respective wound and their minds suddenly bring them back to why they're here in the first place...

  
Right, they have to treat their slowly worsening injury...

  
But to do that, they'd have to let the other go....

 

...

 

...

 

...

A thought suddenly forms inside the brown-haired Angel and he almost scolds himself for even thinking it. 

 

But then, he looks at everything around him and then at his own body...

 

  
And finds himself the first to speak, his face wincing slightly from the extension his hurt metallic arm is making:

  
"O-okay, alright. I'll tell you what, I'm hurt..."

  
"Good!" the blond-haired Demon says with a sneer.

  
The long-haired man sighs in frustration at the interruption and, checking to see if the other man had anything else to say, he continues: "As I was saying, I'm hurt and you're hurt. And while I would also absolutely _love_ to stay here and watch you get Erased right in front of me like the pure mistake that you are, I don't want to sacrifice myself in the process. And I'm pretty sure you're thinking the exact same thing as me right this second."

  
The Sergeant can see the Captain blink rapidly, looking between his own wound and his enemy's wound.

  
Tightening his hold on his previous attacker's hair, the blond Demon says with a bit of venom in his voice: "Yeah, so, what if I did? What's it to ya?"

  
The brown-haired man presses the cold barrel of his pistol even further against his enemy temple and he sighs loudly before responding: "I must be completely out of my mind for even _thinking_ this...but how about...

 

How about a truce, for now?"

  
The blond man blinks a couple of times once again, before his previous sneer turns into a huffing laugh.

  
"Damn right you're out of your mind! Why in the world would I want to trust you?"

  
The long-haired man in his grip shakes his head as he retorts back: "Well, why in the world would _I_  want to trust _you_?"

  
The blond man then slowly, but surely, nods his head, finally getting what the other man is understating: "Because at the moment, we're both toast if we don't."

  
The long-haired man nods back, slightly smiling.

  
Now it's the Captain's turn to sigh in frustration. Here he has, the perfect chance to take a key member of his enemy's troops out. The chance to make even further advancement into this seemingly endless war, not in groundwork this time but in casualties...

  
But, the blond man must reluctantly acknowledge to himself, the Angel that he has in his grip right now is 100% right. As much enjoyment as he would have to stay here and watch his enemy slowly dissolve before his very eyes, that would mean that he'd have to watch _himself_ dissolve before his very eyes too.

 

And he certainly doesn't want that.

  
But what exactly _does_ he want right now?

  
...

  
...

  
...

 

 _The same damn thing as that stupid bastard_ , he frustratingly tells himself.

  
"Okay, alright. I'm...I'm going to let you go... _if_ you let me go..." he finally says.

  
The Sergeant's eyelids goes over his pure white eyeballs a couple of times before...

  
"On the count of three?"

  
The Demon nods, feeling tense by the unpredictability of his enemy.

  
He starts the countdown:

  
"One..."

  
The Angel replies:

 

"Two..."

  
They both finish at the same time:

  
_"Three."_

  
And at that, they let the other go, before rapidly recoiling into the opposite corner of the room.

  
Quickly setting his pistol near him, the Sergeant says: "And if you even _try_ to get to my side of the room while I patch myself up, this baby is going to throw you a fast one right between the eyes. And t _hen_ I'll be able to watch you fade away without unforeseen consequences."

  
The Captain, biting the inside of his cheek and shaking his head at what in the world he'd just agreed to, takes the holster from his thigh and turning it sideways, plants his trusty knife blade up inside its hidden spring as he replies: "And this baby right here is set up to get you the millisecond you even _think_ of trying to get to my side of the room. _And_ , you can absolutely trust me on this one, I'll be getting the popcorn when that happens."

  
He pauses...

  
"'Got it?"

  
The Sergeant nods once more, huffing to let his enemy know that even though he's the one that had proposed the whole thing, it didn't necessarily mean that he actually _liked_ the situation at hand.

  
"'Got it."

  
The Captain nods back in agreement, clicking his tongue to show his natural opponent his annoyance at the state of everything.

  
"Good."

 

And so, the fragile truce is on...

  
For now.


	6. Names and Consumables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truce rolls on and some developments happen...

The Captain grins when he notices what his side of the shed contains...

  
Water bottles and caffeinated drinks out the wazoo baby!

  
He could re-hydrate and re-energize himself and even maybe some other members of his regiment for days with how many of these there are in there!

  
Quickly, he grabs as much containers of liquidy goodness as he can that he puts inside a nearby-found bag. He is about two-thirds done with his task when...

  
"Ahem!" suddenly comes from behind him.

  
Silently cursing at himself for literally having his back turned when he has a sworn enemy right behind it, the blond Demon turns around and finds...

  
And finds...

  
The long-haired Angel sitting there, looking smug as can be, making what looks like a box of...

 

"Are those...are those sardines that you're bouncing around like that?" the demon asks, sounding like a dog entranced by an appetizing-looking meal.

  
The Angel smiles wider. "Yup. And I got plenty more where that came from on my side of the room. One week, one person-worth at that." he retorts, setting said box of small fishes on the floor right next to him.

  
The Demon silently rubs his now-rumbling belly.

  
Sardines, his favorite food in the whole world. Sitting right next to his sworn enemy. And more of that when that came from to boot...

  
He looks at the sparkle inside the Angel's completely blank eyes that seems to linger towards his bag of gathered liquefied loot and soon begins to realize what all of this is really about...

  
"So, let's just say that I wanted said can of sardines, among other solidified foody stuff, was there something that maybe...I don't know, could trade you for?" he finally carefully asks.

  
"Oh well, funny you should ask..." starts the other man,

  
But the Demon doesn't let him finish, as he takes a plastic bottle full of water from his bag and into his hand, just as the Angel gathers the box of sardines inside his own once more...

  
And, just like a game of ice-hockey, the two of them make their respective items gracefully slide across the wooden floor of the place and right into the other person's grip.

  
"...it was nice doing business with you." the Demon finally says, before scarfing down onto the awaiting box of fish like a maniac.

  
"Likewise." retorts the Angel, before gulping down at least half of the water bottle in one go.

  
**************

  
"Hey, uhm...you!" the Angel hears from the other side of the small building, after about an half-hour of exchanging and consuming diverse nutritious containers with said other side.

  
Sighing and turning his head around, the Angel raises an eyebrow as he responds: "You know, even though they don't give us name when we arrive here, I still don't go by just _"You"_!"

  
The Demon, throwing his now-empty can of miniature fish aside, then shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head as he asks: "Well, what in the world am I supposed to call you then?"

  
And without a word, the Angel simply brandishes his dog-tag, the same dog-tag that the blond man had read earlier, and, covering everything but the first three numbers following his rank, the Demon finally seems to understand.

  
"Oh, so they call you on your side like they call me on my side, huh, _"325"_?" the Demon finally says, a smile slowly rising from his lips.

  
He's kind of cute with a smile on his face like that, the Angel suddenly thinks before slightly shaking his head.

  
What in the world was _that_ about?

  
"That's right, _"549"_." the Angel responds, a grin upon his own face.

  
And a nice grin,

  
A nice, beautiful grin, the Demon can't help but think...

  
What in the-?

  
549, as the Demon is called, shakes his head to get the strange thought out of there and get back to what he was about to say:

 

"As I was going to ask before you specified what you'd wanted to be called, if we wanna patch ourselves up, we have two problems."

  
325, as the Angel asked to be named, or numbered should we say, is the one squinting his eyes now as he says: "And what are these two problems exactly?"

  
"Well, number one, if this shed has enough nourishment for one person, then it necessarily means that despite there seemingly being a lot of surgical tools and bandages in here, there is probably not enough for two people. Which means...."

  
The Angel sighs and closes his eyes. "...which means we're gonna have to share."

  
"Yep." the blond man says with a slight nod.

  
Opening his eyes once more, the Angel is afraid to ask, but does so anyways: "And what is the second problem?"

  
The Demon shrugs his shoulders and, with a thigh smile upon his face, responds: "Well, since our respective wounds seem to have decided to place themselves in places just a little bit unreachable for a solo treatment, I think that, unless you suddenly changed your mind and have decided to sacrifice yourself after all, I think we..."

"We what?"

  
Now it's the Demon's turn to sigh and close his eyes as he finishes: "I think we're gonna have to patch each other up."


	7. Something in common

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...maybe what seemed to be two polar opposites aren't that opposite after all.
> 
> Or, what happens when they both infringe their Golden rule?

325 looks onto the shelf and sighs for what seems the hundredth time in under five minutes.

  
He stares as the thin blue latex gloves stuffed on there, then back his own thick black ones.

  
549, from behind him, seems to understand his hesitation as he says: "So you have the same Golden Rule as us, huh?"

  
The long-haired man sighs once more as he answers: " _If losing what's rushing through your body is one way to get Erased..._ "

  
" _Then touching your enemy without your gloves is another._ Welp, 'looks like we've got at least one thing in common." the Demon finishes with a tilt of the head and a slight grin.

  
The Angel scowls as he turns around: "Oh please! You and I have absolutely _nothing_ in common! If it weren't for you and your stupid kind..." he stops and lowers his head.

  
The Demon sees the pain on the Angel's face and for the first time in his Afterlife, he doesn't want to feed into an opponent's anger and lead the two of them into a confrontation.

  
Instead, he scooches closer, careful as to not crossing their proverbial line, and quietly, softly, asks: "What...what did me and my stupid kind do?"

  
He blinks and mentally slaps himself,

  
What in the world has _gotten_ into him?

  
But the damage (or is it repair?) is already done, because the Angel, raising his head in surprise at the sudden worried tone of his...

  
...Enemy?

  
Acquaintance?

  
Temporary Friend?

  
More?

  
Whatever the other man is to him at the moment, he doesn't know and right now, he doesn't care, as he takes the offered source of comfort and...

  
Points at his metallic hand with his fleshy one.

  
And the Demon quickly gets it.

  
"Oh." is all that he can say.

  
He'd heard the reports...

  
An older, but this one traditional attack by the Angels, desperate to retake a bit of what they'd once again lost...

  
A field full of hidden minefields, put there by a squadron that wasn't his own....

  
An Angel had almost been Erased right on the spot there, thanks to one of them blowing up where he stood. Thankfully, due to some quick repair work, his left arm had been all he'd ended up seeing disappear.

  
...an arm that had been replaced by a robotic-looking one and that was now shining right by his face.

  
"Yeah." is all the other man can respond.

  
They don't say or move for about a minute, before...

  
"Well, if we're going to complain about losses in this stupid war with your stupid kind, I actually lost a friend of mine in that attack. Tall, black guy... couldn't miss him even if you tried..."

  
The Angel knew who the other man was talking about, because he'd seen him, the unknown soldier disappear before his very eyes as he'd stepped one of his own hidden traps.

  
And seeing the place where a Demon had been there just seconds ago and now had nothing in it had been so...

  
So damn _haunting_.

  
"We've all have our good gets and our bad gets when it comes to this conflict. And if both you and I wanna get some more of these, we need to focus and act quick. Whatever happened outside beforehand and is going to happen outside after this stays out there, because right in here and right in now, I need you and you need me. Understand?" the Demon says, determination seemingly shining in his hollow eyes....

  
...That the Angel suddenly finds himself getting lost into...

  
_God_ , what in the world is wrong with him? he suddenly says to himself, as he blinks away in confusion by what has just happened.

  
Getting back to the task at hand, the hesitation from a few minutes ago also returns...

  
Before...

  
"If...if I double the layers of latex that I wear, do you think it might work?" he finally asks.

  
The Demon can only shrug his shoulders as he responds: "Only one way to find out."

  
The Angel gulps slightly as he carefully and very slowly, takes off his combat gloves as the other man begins to take off his pants to prepare for the first patching up of the night.

  
The Demo hisses in pain as his combat trousers slides over his bullet wound and he carefully, very slowly, lays on the wooden ground and his...

  
...Temporary friend?

  
Acquaintance?

  
Enemy?

  
More?

  
Carefully slides over with what looks like at least twice the ordinarily needed-pair of latex gloves slipped on each hand and the essential surgical tools right by his side.

  
325 tries to control his trembling as he reaches over and...

  
Puts his gloved fingers on 549's thigh.

  
And after a good solid minute of kneeling there, doesn't feel himself fading away or disappearing in any way.

  
His cannot help but grin as he says: "Well, what do you know? 'Looks like both of our sides _do_ have one thing in common after all, in that they were both _wrong_."

  
His patient of the moment slightly raises and shake his head: "Oh, would you look at that? For the first time in his life, Barnes _agrees_ with **me**."

  
The Angel huffs out a laugh.

  
"And for the first time in his life, Rogers is about to _depend_ on **me**."


	8. The touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things quickly turn on their head...

The Angel and the Demon both sudden recoil on each of their side of the room, both absolutely frightened by what has just happened.

  
They both quickly grab the weapon they each had set up in case the other tried something funny and...

  
"Who...who are you?"

  
"What...what did you do to me?"

  
They both end up saying.

  
They kneel there, both panting, looking at one another fiercely and completely confused at what is going on.

  
The Angel...

  
325...

  
... _Barnes_?

  
Brandishes his shining weapon with his trusty firing hand as he says: "Do you...do you know what in the world happened just now?"

  
The Demon...

  
549...

  
... _Rogers_?

  
Can only shake his head as his knife shines inside his trusty throwing hand.

  
"Do...do you?" he can only ask back, only to receive the same kind of shaking of the head in response.

  
Blinking and focusing his eyes a little bit closer, he cannot help but add: "And...is it normal that one of your eyes is brown now?"

  
Barnes turns his head slightly to his reflective weapon and to his complete shock, finds that the other man is right.

  
And, looking back, he cannot help but say: "And is it normal that one of _your_ eyes is blue now?"

  
Rogers looks into his own reflective weapon and lets out a gasp himself when he sees exactly what the other man sees.

  
They both look back at one another.

  
"I...I haven't remembered a single thing about my past life ever since I came to this place." the Angel finally says.

  
"Me neither. Even my own name. I was just given a number and a rank to start up with and that's all there was to my identity..." the Demon answers.

  
They both blink a couple of time, before...

  
"Until now."

  
The Demon adds as he drops his weapon behind him and slowly...

  
"Yeah, until now."

  
The Angel replies as he lays his weapon besides himself and slowly...

  
The both of them reach the center of the shed, where neither of them were supposed to be in the first place.

  
The Angel slowly takes off his double-layered off his fleshy hand,

  
Just as the Demon raises his own...

 

And together,

  
They interlock their fingers.

  
_"... **Steve**?"_

  
"... ** _Bucky_**?"

 


	9. Steve and Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their story is finally told.

There had been a Steve Rogers and a James Barnes once upon a time.

  
Childhood neighbors and best friends, then came puberty and all the strange feelings and developments that came along with it.

  
And one of them was their growing attraction towards the other.

  
It all came out ahead on a rainy Wednesday night, a night that seemed like any other, but to Steve and Bucky (that's how the blond man liked to call James), it changed everything.

  
A missed bus to their dormitory,

Being drenched to the bone,

  
Certain clothes clinging around certain places and certain body parts becoming more visible than others...

  
All led to a passionate kiss by a bus stop, which led to passionate sex when they _finally_ got back their room,

  
Which lead to a very loving and happy relationship that lasted all the throughout their high-school and college years.

  
After graduation from all of these, however...

  
The pressure got to both Bucky and Steve. Of getting a job, a new place to stay that wasn't the cheapest New York could offer, of getting a job, of living life not at their parent's teat...

  
Of getting a job.

  
Steve was lucky, because Steve was hard-driven. He'd gotten something almost the second he'd set a foot outside of school, a well-earning clerk job inside a lawyer office, with the promise of maybe an advancement into his dream administrative duties someday.

  
But Bucky hadn't had that luck, because Bucky had always hesitated about pretty much everything.

  
Which clothes to wear, which movies to pick, which degree to choose from...

  
And all of that had given him was a simple waiter position at some no-name restaurant with no upwards mobility ahead.

  
Steve had big plans, Steve had big dreams,

  
Bucky had no idea how he could pay his next half of the rent.

  
And, like blood inside a pool of water, the now almost-constant fights between the once almost-always happy couple was seen and sniffed by moving predators...

  
Especially a very hungry one named Brock Rumlow.

  
Brock Rumlow had always had an eye on one Steve Rogers ever since the first errand the blond man had run for him all those months ago, but really how couldn't he? With his blue eyes and spiky hair and the way his clothes fit so damn snugly against his muscles and particularly his ass whenever he moved or bent down...

  
Who wouldn't want a piece of this very warm and very delicious-looking apple pie?

  
And so Brock waited and saw and sniffed, knowing that his prey was taken, knowing to be patient...

  
But most of all, knowing when the time was right to strike.

  
And it had all came to ahead on another rainy Wednesday night, a night that seemed like any other, but to Steve and Bucky, it changed everything.

  
Yet another vicious fight about dependence and agreemence between the two,

  
Had led to an almost all-night of drinking for Steve and his co-worker, a muscular goateed man that for the life of him, he could never remember the name of,

  
Which had led to an almost all-night of whining for Bucky to his own co-worker, a mustached and bowler hat-wearing man that liked to be called "Dum Dum" for some reason,

  
Which had led to Bucky getting worried because his boyfriend wasn't getting home and was maybe busy getting drunk at some unknown bar,

  
Which had led to him tracking said boyfriend down to said bar to apologize and maybe, just maybe, start to set things right,

  
Which had led to him seeing the scene...a drunken Steve and a maybe-not-so-drunken-after-all Brock Rumlow locking lips inside an alley,

  
Which had led to Bucky being in shock,

  
Which had led to him walking backwards without thinking,

  
Without watching,

  
Setting him straight into the wet pavement of the busy street,

  
And straight into the path on an upcoming drifting car.

  
**************

  
_"He'd died instantly. He didn't suffer at all."_ , that's what everyone told Steve at the funeral.

  
But Steve didn't listen to them,

  
Didn't listen to anyone.

  
He didn't go out,

  
He didn't eat,

  
He didn't sleep,

  
He didn't do anything.

  
Because now that he had no job (that he'd left),

  
He had no apartment (that he could no longer afford)

  
And quite frankly, without Bucky,

  
Without the warm, beautiful ball of sunshine that had been and always would be Bucky,

  
What really did the blond man ever have?

  
And so, on yet another rainy Wednesday night,

  
Only two months after the love of his life had passed on,

  
And two days before the tenant of his apartment building was about to take back what had been his and his boyfriend's attempt at a lovely life inside a lovely place,

  
Steve Rogers stood upon the roof ledge of said apartment building,

  
Filled to the brim with guilt over the mistake that was the kiss that had cost him everything and with remorse with how his life had turned out before and after it had happened...

  
And, just like Bucky Barnes had on that fateful day,

  
... he took a step backwards.


	10. Erasure...or something else?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, what happens now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue time! Thanks to everyone who has liked this little tale of mine in all the ways that they could, or even just read it. It really means the world to me. :)

"I'm so sorry."

  
A short and blond-haired...whatever he is now, sighs as he rakes his fingers trough long and soft brown ones and tightens his unoccupied arm around the form laying against him.

  
"I'm the one that should be sorry." the brown and long-haired...whatever he is now replies just a softly, taking in the scent of his newly-remembered companion...

  
A mix of almond, chocolate and vanilla...

  
_So_ **amazing**.

  
It's several hours later and they've both given up.

  
They're both out of place inside their respective kind now, with both of their eyes now back to what they were before,

  
So they cannot go back to where they used to be.

  
And they cannot go back to killing each other now, with both of memories of now back to what it was before.

  
So they cannot go back to how they used to be.

  
And, with so much white and black liquid that had already left their bodies even before they'd reached this wooden place, they were both pretty much doomed from the get-go anyways.

  
So, after a few passionate kisses and cries, ( _"I can't believe it's you."_ **"I can't believe it's you."** )

  
A few discoveries, ( **"You wanted to reconcile with me?!"** _"You jumped?!"_ _"So it was your knife that did this?"_ **"So it was your gun that did this?"** )

  
They both exhaustively laid there, in each other's arms once more,

  
After all this damn time,

  
After all this damn pain,

  
After all this damn _war_ ,

  
As they both awaited the inevitable.

  
And kept apologizing to one another.

  
"I'm the cowardly one, the one that should have been less hesitant in everything and pay attention to you more. I'm the one that's at fault in all of this." Bucky says, as a tired tear rolls down his face.

  
Steve smiles despite the pain that he's in as he responds: "And I'm the stubborn one, the one that should have been less forward in everything and listened to you more. I'm the one that's at fault in all of this."

  
He lowers his eyes just as his newly-remembered companion raises his...

  
Bucky smiles slightly as he says: "Well, maybe for once, we can agree to disagree?"

  
Steve smiles back as he responds: "You know what? That's a great idea."

  
They both lean in and peck the other on the lips, before...

 

"So, what's going to become of us?

 

"I...I honestly don't know."

 

  
They each look down, right where their legs used to be.

 

"Steve?"

  
"Yeah?"

  
"I just wanted you to know that, no matter what happened then and no matter what happens now, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for."

  
Steve catches his love's fleshy hand inside one of his own and kisses it, just as the Erasure slowly starts making its way up their torso.

  
"Likewise. And Buck?"

  
"Yeah?"

  
"I just wanted you to know that, no matter what happened then and no matter what happens now, I'll always make sure to find my way back to you."

  
Bucky smiles back at his love as the Erasure slowly makes its way up their neck.

  
"Likewise."

  
A quiet murmur echoes through the wooden shed, as all there is left now between its walls is a mixture of black and white liquid sprayed all over the floor and nothing else.

  
_"I love you James Barnes."_

  
_"I love you Steve Rogers."_

  
***************

  
**Somewhere, sometime on Earth...**

  
_*Bang*_

  
_"Oh Jesus! I'm so sorry!"_

  
**"No, no I'm sorry. I'm the one who wasn't looking where he was going."**

  
....

  
..

  
.

  
_"Say, have we met before? You look kind of familiar."_

  
**"You know what? I was about to say the same thing!"**

  
_"I'm Steve."_

  
**"I'm James."**

 

_"Nice to meet you James."_

 

**"Nice to meet you Steve."**

  
...

  
..

  
.

  
**"So, hum, I don't know about you but, this sudden walk backwards in the middle of the street and subsequent fall in the middle of the pavement has left me with a little bit of an appetite. What do you say you and I go somewhere to eat to satiate said appetite?"**

  
_"Boy, you sure are forward when it comes to first meetings, aren't you James?"_

  
**_"And you sure are hesitant when someone tries to ask you on a date, aren't you Steve?"_ **

  
_"So, what if I am?"_

  
**"And so, what if _I_ am?"**

  
...

  
..

  
.

  
_"Lead the way, James Barnes."_

  
**"I was about to say the same thing, Steve Rogers."**

  
...

  
**_"Wait, how do you know my last name!?"_ **


End file.
